


Impact

by A_Quiet_Place



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Masochist Bruce Wayne, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, lucid sex dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:48:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23745586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Quiet_Place/pseuds/A_Quiet_Place
Summary: Bruce Starts having very vivid dreams about his co-worker -- dreams he can't stop, because maybe he just doesn't want to.Slightly dub-con element.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 12
Kudos: 138





	Impact

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gement](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gement/gifts).



> Seriously not safe for work and intended for adults only.  
> There's a few slightly dub-con dream moments, and if it's too much tell me and I will tag it.  
> Not my characters, just my depravity.

It's already too late; Bruce knows, even before his bedroom door opens with a gentle whoosh. There's no use pretending to be asleep.

He pretends anyway.

The silence that follows the door is sharp, teetering on the precipice of agony.

Then...

An amused huff from over his shoulder. Bruce squeezes his eyes shut.

The sheet that is draped over his body shifts against his skin as it pulls slowly away from him. Even as the too warm body slides onto the bed beside him, pressing firmly against his back, Bruce is sinking his mind and energy into meditation. He pushes away all thought and feeling as the broad and deceptively strong hands roam over his naked form.

He barely registers the breath against his ear as Kal-El lets out a pleased hum.

“You are always so ready for me, Bruce.”

Kal's hands grope down his chest, skimming tenderly along his abdominals. The too hot mouth presses kisses against his shoulder and neck, leaving saliva to cool rapidly against Bruce's skin.

Bruce resolutely ignores the evidence of Kal's growing arousal against the small of his back. Forcing himself deeper into his meditations.

Kal-El's hand travels down passed his navel, pausing just a moment before cupping Bruce's soft cock, almost tenderly.

There's another huff of air against the back of Bruce's neck.

“Disappointing. But easily remedied.” Kal's hand slide back up the length of Bruce's body and grips his shoulder. He forces Bruce to roll onto his back with a firm and demanding grip.

Bruce eyes remain as closed as his thoughts, as he leaves his body behind – sinking into the deepest recesses of his mind. At least, he tries to.

His body seems hyper aware as he feels Kal's mouth travels hungrily down, leaving mean little suction marks and broken skin behind as he bites at Bruce's flesh. Bruce is struggling not to shudder and groan under the sensations.

He's barely keeping it together when he feels Kal-El start to hungrily suck him off. Bruce lets out a hiss and his eyes shoot open to see Kal's bright blue eyes staring up at him. Bruce's cock is hitting the back of the too hot and too tight clench of Kal's throat as he's being milked.

Bruce squeezes his eyes shut. He tells himself the slurping and groaning are nothing but background noise. He is Batman, he will tuck the sounds neatly away with the rest of the horror in his mind. Screaming mothers, the wet smack of a body hitting the pavement, the agonized wails of children.

It doesn't work, his eyes wont stay closed, he can't stop watching his cock disappearing into Kal-El's hot, greedy mouth.

Bruce feels himself slide inevitably towards orgasm, the pleasure coiling through his body like adrenaline.

The sucking, licking, hungry tongue lathers his balls, and lower, sliding between his buttocks as his lower half is lifted easily up off the mattress. When that same tongue penetrates him, pressing insistently against his innards Bruce nearly breaks.

His breath stutters and arches up as he struggles against the tide of pleasure his body endures.

“Yes, Bruce.” Kal-El groans. His firm hand shoves Bruce hard against the bedding, pressed against his chest so firmly it aches, but that ache sends shivers throughout his whole body.

Bruce can't hold out, his fists grips the sheets as he hurtles towards release....

Bruce awakes with a start. Suddenly hyper aware of his dim surroundings, his ears strain to hear through the stifling silence of his bedroom.

He's hot all over, panting and trembling with need but he holds perfectly still for twenty beats of his heart. His sheets are wet with sweat, sticking unpleasantly to his skin.

Bruce lets out a growl of frustration and rips the sheets from his body, staring down at his erection with an accusing scowl. The sweat that gathers across his flesh now cools rapidly causing goose-pimples. His nipples are pebbled and hard. The start blue black bruise of a hand print in the middle of his chest sends a thrill of arousal through him.

He clenches his jaw against it.

He is the master of his own being in all things, and he will – _will –_ conquer the desperation that courses through his body.

When a bead of pre-come slides down the head of his cock he swears and with a slight grimace hauls himself up from the bed.

The deep purple welts that plaster his ribs and thighs from his last fight through Gotham and the steady thrum of the painful pleasure they bring, ignored in favor for a hasty step into the shower of his en-suite.

The water is so cold he gasps involuntarily, but forces himself under the stream anyway.

His mind tries to wander toward the dream, but he focuses instead on the fight. Analyzing his movements – his failures from the evening before. He resolutely ignores the section of the fight where Superman's hand had shoved into his chest, firmly knocking him out of the way of a projectile and leaving Bruce with a perfectly shaped bruise, a bruise that starts to feel too pleasant when his fingers skim the outline of it tentatively.

He lets out a growl, and squeezes his eyes shut in concentration, dropping his hand away and willing his body to relax. It takes too long, much too long, but soon enough, the heaviness of his prick falls away, and he breathes deep with relief.

Later he will think on it; analyze it, interpret it. Pull it inside out and apart and put it back together until it is nothing but a shell of its former self. Then he will simply file it away knowing that it is just his unconscious mind telling him he is finally beginning to trust someone other than himself.

There are very few things that can knock Superman out of the sky. Bruce has a list of them ready in his mind at all times to predict the outcomes of battle.

Kamikaze alien-robots are not on the list.

During a fight -- which has the whole justice league holding off a small army of these alien machines, they all find out very quickly that the flying aliens are actually just delivery crafts for some very unpleasant bombs. Bombs lined with shards of Kryptonite.

Just as Batman drops out of his ship and is mid air, cape spread out into glider form – the flying alien-robot which had been trying to free itself from a well timed bola, explodes.

Batman sees it happen like it's in slow motion. He turns sharply, just in time for the broad expanse of his cape to catch the blast. It unfortunately sends him careening from the fight like a canon ball, and he barely manages to free himself from his shredded cloak and grab for his grappling gun before a blue and red blur catches him around the middle, knocking the wind out of him for a second time in a matter of moments.

As gentle as Superman is with his catch, the sharp change in motion makes Batman's stomach lurch. Batman doesn't get a chance to call out a warning, it all happens too fast for his human body to react. Another robot appears on Superman's shoulder, and barely a millisecond later it detonates.

The shock and pain on Superman's face is all Batman sees as he is jolted hard by the impact of their bodies colliding.

They are falling fast and heavy, Batman takes a moment to first grip Superman's limp body and then resume firing his grappling hook.

Were he alone on the swing he could have caught his weight against the building he is careening towards; but Superman is a wall of solid muscle and they hit hard. Batman's gasp is tested as the impact definitely cracks a few of his ribs against the hard wall.

Superman is dazed, but conscious. He manages to maintain enough wherewithal to grip onto Batman's shoulders like his life depends on it. And it probably does.

They hang in the air for what seems an age, Batman's muscles straining and his teeth clench so hard it hurts. Even so, his mind wanders. There will be bruises, deep ones, all over him tomorrow. He can't allow himself to think on it, but he does.

The Green Lantern is the one who manages to get them down, and from there, to Batman, the rest of the fight is a blur of practiced motion. He's on autopilot, desperately trying to force his mind away from the pleasure of the idea that his body is again covered in Superman's marks.

By the time he has reached headquarters his breath is labored more than it ought to be. Batman squeezes his eyes shut against the thoughts that stampede through his mind. Ignores the thrill of the pain in his flesh and the memory of Superman's solid body slamming against his.

He tries to stave off sleep for as long as he can. But soon he knows he will have to give in. There is too much work to be done to be without rest.

When he dreams that night, it is of Clark, not Kal-El, pressing him against the bed with his strong body -- shoving his cock into Bruce with enough force to shake the room. The grip Clark has on his shoulders hurts so good Bruce can barely stand it. The pain mixes with the pleasure of his cock rubbing along the sheets beneath him. Their rocking bodies press tightly together, hot skin and sweat, until Clark's throbbing cock sinks so deep into Bruce he can feel it bump his heart. Bruce screams through his orgasm, throat dry and back arched.

He awakes in a puddle of his own cum, knowing that he had very probably rubbed himself off against the sheets out of the dream as well as in it.

There are more incidents, more battle bruises and scars. They are unavoidable in their line of work. Batman remembers every. Single. One.

His body hums with it when he dreams, his fingers press into the bruises to make them ache to make his cock jump and leak. The cuts are the best and the worst, the sting brings tears to his eyes an a sensation that his mind can't decide is pain or pleasure.

He feels shame. More to add to the mountain.

He feels disgust; at first with himself for his wanton reactions -- and then with Louis, when he sees Clark wrap tender and gentle arms around her.

The dreams don't stop.

Bruce still wakes achingly hard, or spilling into his bed with choked off cries. But Batman is discipline, he pushes on, determined not to let anything get in the way of his work.

Not even Superman.

**Author's Note:**

> A little drabble that was once two unfinished fics. I haven't written in a while and needed to shake off the rust.  
> To Gement, who unknowingly got me writing again.  
> Not Beta'd


End file.
